


Metameleia

by Fiannalover



Category: Dragalia Lost (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:28:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26839744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiannalover/pseuds/Fiannalover
Summary: To move past what has happened, one needs love, foresight, and a place which nurtures even the most frail of flowers.Now, to begin that journey past hindsight.
Kudos: 4





	Metameleia

The way to the train station was empty, void of life. At such an unholy hour in the morning, in a rarely taken road to that destination, no one other than the two men were there, which made the commotion go on unnoticed.

“Brother… you’re not gonna leave, are you?” The pleas that Epimetheus delivered upon him once again fell in deaf ears, “Please. Don’t leave me alone here.”

The older brother didn’t react. Avoiding eye contact, he mumbled, “This is why I did not tell you I was leaving today.” The cold words stayed on the air, “I can not take you with me. I can not help you any further here. This is goodbye.”

“No. Nononononono! Brother, please! Don’t leave me…”

The man in question turned around, walking in the station with his bags, no further care given.

And thus, Epimetheus felt something in him click. Poison went through his gears, igniting their workings after long being held back. Just…

“Why…”

_How dare he…_

“WHY ARE YOU GONNA LEAVE ME ALONE!?” Not giving the surprised Prometheus a chance to react, the younger brother lunged at him, hitting and striking wherever he could. There was no real skill, planning, or anything in this fight. Just anger, frustration, and-

Inevitably, he was struck back. Reflexively, Prometheus punched him in the gut, before running his nails through the arm that went against him, clawing the skin on it. Pushing his brother away with enough strength to throw him onto the ground, all he did as he looked at his action was offer a small whisper, 

“... I’m sorry.”

And then, he finally left. 

That was it, then, he thought, bitterly laughing, as he got up from the rough push. It didn’t matter. Who cared. The only person that barely did so just finished abandoning him as well.

What was even the point… He got up and left the place. No one was around to see what happened. No one was around to ask him if he wanted help. 

Wandering through the streets aimlessly, fatigue catched up to him. With the way his arm bled, it was no wonder he was in this state. Why even bother…

* * *

When he woke up, it wasn’t to cold concrete, but to a soft bed that invited him to stay longer. His arm was properly bandaged by now, in a rather effective and comfortable way. He was sure he’d get scars from the wound, but at least there were no longer worries about an infection.

But still, this place was all too cozy. The yellow walls felt bright, with the sunlight giving them warmth, making him further at ease. So, just where…

The room’s door opened, with a gorgeous woman walking in, wearing a white business blouse and a black skirt, holding in her arms a black jacket that she left by the doorknob. Keeping distance, she said, “Good morning, young man. I was beginning to get worried, you know.” Sitting on a nearby chair, she asked, “Have you slept well? Are the bandages itchy, or anything?”

“T-they’re fine.” The boy replied, shrinking into the corner out of reflex. At the same time, though, this felt… fine. A faint smell of assorted flowers radiated from the woman, calming his head, “I’m sorry. Where am I?”

“In a small house I rented for the week. I couldn’t just leave you on the sidewalk, and, at the same time, I could see your wounds were just light enough to not need immediate hospital attention. Suffice to say, I'm glad I wasn't wrong.” She explained, with the detail and confidence of a professional, “My name is Freyja. I’m a professor who came to this town for a conference. And you are?”

“... Epimetheus.”

“Very well. Are you willing to tell me what happened to you?”

“I got in a fight. That is all.” It was true. But, at the same time, his savior could easily see, in the rigidity of that answer, that it wasn’t the whole truth.

Nevertheless, she got up, and said, “Well, come on. You should have breakfast.”

“W-what? No, there is n-”

“No point in leaving the place with an empty stomach. With how early it still is, I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything.” With that pinpoint observation, she let him be, making her way to the breakfast table in the next room.

Epimetheus’ stomach slightly rumbled.

Perhaps... nothing bad would happen here.

* * *

“Well, about time I leave for my meetings.” Freyja said, getting up, “Are you staying?”

“I-I’m sorry?”

“There is a spare key set in that cupboard over there.” She pointed, making sure he saw it, “As long as I’m here, feel free to take it. The house is open for you.”

He didn’t know what to say. It still felt too weird. It still felt too safe to be truthful. 

But then again, it’s not like he wanted to stay at home anymore than he needed, so, “Thank you, miss Freyja.”

* * *

The week went by. Steadily, Epimetheus spent more time at the place. In different moments of the day, multiple times, just experimenting, to see if the dream would break, or his family would catch up.

After sleeping over for a day, both of these worries were significantly reduced. 

The dream had yet to end. It still offered fresh breakfast, interesting stories about agriculture, cats and knowledge, coated with the smell of flowers.

His past family had yet to care. After spending the entire night somewhere else, he was barely acknowledged.

And the only one who would care was long gone, after all.

So, that was it.

Grabbing all his documents and a couple of clothes, he looked at his house one last time. There were still things he could take with him, but…

_There you go, Epi. You wanted this plush, right?_

… It was tainted, now.

No memories of the nightmares, and the last person to betray him, would be taken.

* * *

“Miss Freyja, please. Take me with you.”

Looking at the teenager, no older than 15, she only hesitated for a split second, before saying, “I was hoping you’d ask me. Come on, Epimetheus. I’ll get a train ticket for you.”

And so, he smiled.

The dream would go on, for a bit longer.

Besides, most surely, anything would be better than what he already had.


End file.
